


D R E S S

by noelleKINDOF



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Secret Relationship, Smut, dramione - Freeform, i actually love Taylor swift, i wanted to call Draco daddy but that’s for next time, it’s just a really mild story, mild blinny, mild hansy, mild sexy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23059480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noelleKINDOF/pseuds/noelleKINDOF
Summary: Everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about / All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation / My hands are shaking from holding back from you
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 70





	D R E S S

**Author's Note:**

> this story is written in pieces from 3 different points of my life and you’ll probably notice the shift in writing styles of these 3 periods. Sorry.

D R E S S 

AU 

Pairing: Dramione, Hansy, Blinny 

//

Hermione Granger stands proud beside her best friend, Harry Potter, as their arrival is announced. She can feel Harry shaking beside her from the nerves as they walk into a crowded venue, calculating eyes on them.  
“We can leave if you want to,” Hermione whispers softly, smiling at his best friend for the crowd. She can’t let them think that he’s not okay. The moment Harry let it slip that he holds any sort of grudge to their hosts can mean a nasty backslash and her best friend’s mental health cannot afford that much strain right now.  
“No, no,” Harry bravely insists, copying her smile. “This is important to her. Her happiness is still important to me.”  
Hermione nods, but doesn’t completely believe him. She leads him to Blaise Zabini, who was greeting the last of the guests as they enter the hall.  
“Glad you can make it,” the man says politely as he shakes hands with Harry.  
Her best friend smiles, wishes him a merry Christmas and congratulations on the engagement.  
“Really, thank you for coming,” Blaise repeats sincerely as his eyes travels across the room to find Ginny Weasley, a sort of twinkle in his dark eyes as he sighs softly at the pretty girl in a red dress conversing with two elderly women. “It means so much for her that you’re both here.”  
“She’s family,” is what Hermione replies in a sweet tone, “Thank you for having us.”  
Blaise politely excuses himself to greet a newcomer and Hermione drags Harry to their assigned table.  
They are stopped by Mrs Weasley, who chats with them warmly like the past year didn’t happen. They say their warm wishes to rest of the Weasley clan before settling on their assigned seats.  
“You don’t have to babysit me,” Harry tells her, chuckling as they both sip a glass of wine moments later, sitting on one of the main tables as they watch the crowd and festivities. Hermione is surprised that they’re seated so close to the head table. The head table being the Weasley clan along with Blaise and his mother. They are a table over where she assumes close friends are to be seated.  
Then again, it isn’t as if there are any animosity between them and the Wesleys since Harry and Ginny’s breakup.  
It’s just been awkward.  
Hermione wonders who else will be sitting with them. She eyes the ballroom and notices that Ginny’s teammates are all seated elsewhere further into the hall.  
“I’m fine, Hermione.”  
“It’s only been half a year, Harry,” Hermione points out in disbelief, remembering how her best friend cried his heart out all those months ago, “It’s okay if you’re not okay.”  
He shrugs and finishes his glass of wine before it’s quickly refilled by a passing waiter. “I promise,” Harry says cooly, “I’m completely over it. Over her.”  
Hermione peers at him as if calculating his every move. He looks nervous but not in the way she’d seen him whenever he had to go somewhere where he might bump into Ginny. In fact, she notices that his eyes have been subtly scanning the room as if looking for something—or someone?—only to smile to himself before turning his attention back to her.  
“You met someone,” Hermione concludes in surprise, turning her eyes to the direction Harry was looking at in search of the mysterious lady that got him to smile like that. The crowd is large and she won’t be able to pinpoint who it was exactly that brought the light back into her best friend’s eyes.  
Harry Potter hadn’t smiled like he was happy with his life for so long. The breakup with Ginny six months ago wasn’t a surprise to Hermione as the two had been unhappy with each other for quite some time. The relationship was sinking and all she could have done was stand beside both of them when it finally broke. Truthfully, she supported Harry more than Ginny as she had her whole family on her side while she was Harry’s only family. Juggling between the two had been hard—especially when Ginny started seeing Blaise as it made much harder for Harry to move on a two months into their split. And what more the engagement so soon into their relationship.  
Blushing, Harry looks at her in embarrassment. “That obvious?” He’s chuckling nervously, eyes meeting Hermione’s sheepishly as if fighting to hide his giddiness. He’s so nervous and so innocent and so sincere that it warms her heart.  
Maybe he really is okay.  
“No,” she answers, smiling widely as her best friend confirms her statement. “Not obvious at all.” Taking Harry’s hands on hers, she gives it a little squeeze, a sign of encouragement. “I just— I haven’t seen you look like that for so long,” she confesses and Harry imitates her expression, “I hope she makes you happy.”  
Harry’s smile could have lit up the whole ballroom. “She does, ‘Mione. She makes me so fucking happy.”  
And just like that, Hermione decides that she will work extra hard to have this woman like her. If she can make Harry this happy with just a glance, there’s no way Hermione will let this girl slip from his grasp.  
Before she can ask anything else, their attention is called for on the table over as Blaise clinks his glass, smiling at the crowd before delivering a speech to thank all his guests and to declare his love to Ginny and her family. Mrs Zabini says a speech followed by Mrs Weasley and soon the empty chairs around them are quick to fill at the announcement of dinner to be served soon.  
Hermione politely greet and smile at the others on the table as they sit.  
“Granger,” Parkinson says kindly as she takes the seat next to Hermione. Eyeing her once over, Hermione tries her best to not stiffen at the girl’s gaze as the former slytherin continues, “You look lovely.”  
Hiding her surprise, Hermione offers her own compliment. Parkinson’s wearing a black, timeless dress (which surprises Hermione as she assumes she would have worn green) and Hermione wonders if it’s been bought from the muggle world. Surely Wizarding fashion hasn’t jumped a few centuries ahead to produce a backless dress like that.  
Pansy (who implores that they call each other by their given name) starts a conversation with her, their topics going from the mild weather to the political struggle of women in the ministry to muggle vs wizard fashion.  
Truthfully, she hasn’t spoken to Pansy Parkinson since their awkward apologies in Hogwarts and their circles hardly ever run. The times that they are forced in the same room due to Blaise and Ginny’s relationship, they never really seek each other out.  
Without the school rivalry and the threat of a war looming over them, Hermione finds herself enjoying her time with Pansy and she wishes that she had sought the girl out sooner. At times like these, she wishes that the Wizarding World has been more open about muggleborns because her and Pansy would have been very good friends right at the beginning. She was intelligent and quick on her toes and funny.  
“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you would talk about work during a party.” Draco Malfoy stands behind Pansy and two shares a quick kiss on the cheek. He whispers something in her ears and she glares pointly at him.  
“Potter.” He nods at Harry, who is quick to return the gesture. The people near their table eyes the exchange closely, only to be disappointed that a fight doesn’t break out. The two had a nefarious childhood rivalry and had made up just as quickly as they had become rivals back in their first year.  
It was a boy thing, Hermione concludes, unaware of the reasons how they can be hating each other at one moment and scheduling quidditch games the next.  
Draco Malfoy then turns to Hermione, greeting her politely as he gently takes her hand, kissing the back of it lightly. His gray eyes meet hers, a wicked smirk in his lips. To an outsider, he’s simply being polite, but to Hermione, who has had the pleasure of seeing this beautiful face come undone many times in the past week, the look in his eyes promises something that makes her stomach warm and sink with anticipation.  
Draco takes a seat by Pansy. He’s quick to engage with Theo Nott, on his other side, after Pansy scolds him for his tardiness and Hermione is pulled into a conversation with the girl again.  
Once dinner has ended, she feels Harry nudge her on the side.  
“Yes?”  
Blushing a little, his eyes a bit to the side like he has a secret he's itching to share with her, he whispers before meeting Hermione’s head on, “Ask Malfoy to dance.”  
Harry eyes the man as she frowns at her best friend. She’s confused but also a little bit nervous.  
Had their earlier exchange been too obvious? Has she somehow done something that might have caused Harry to out them? “What? Why?”  
Then, she notices how Harry’s eyes are a little bit dazed as he watches Pansy take a bite of her dessert. His gaze is staring intently at the movements of her lips.  
Eyes widening in realization, she looks at her best friend, pulls on his sleeve to grab his attention, and mouths, “Pansy Parkinson?”  
He simply grins and nods excitedly.  
There’s no hesitation with his confirmation, just pure adoration in his eyes. And at that moment, she knows she will do everything in her power to keep Harry this happy.  
Is that why Pansy is so friendly with her? Hermione wonders if she’s being nice to Hermione for Harry and she decides that she genuinely likes Pansy. If the woman is going to do her best to make friends for Harry’s sake, then Hermione can fully support this relationship.  
Hermione taps Pansy on the arm before asking, “Pansy, switch with me? I have some things to discuss with Draco.”  
For her best friend, she would endure Malfoy’s infuriating ego. She hopes that Harry appreciates this.  
“Of course,” Pansy agrees, sounding a little bit unsure as the two witch exchanges seats. From the corner of her eyes, she sees their hands reach for each other before dipping under the table. She’s a good actor, Hermione notes. If Harry hasn't confirmed with her that it’s Pansy that has him all giddy, Hermione probably won’t have picked up on it. Then again, she’s put in slytherin for a reason at eleven. That must count for something.  
“Granger.” Draco Malfoy smiles wolfishly once he finishes his conversation with Theo, his full attention on her. He turns his body to face her, his larger stature looming over her as he smirks. “I see that you know.”  
Taken aback, her jaw drops. She's just found out now. Has Draco known all along? “You knew?”  
He shrugs, letting his eyes fall on her cleavage as he licks his lips. He’s not being subtle with his ogling. It makes Hermione blush and turn away. He only leers wolfishly at her.  
“A recent discovery,” he admits, leaning in closer. She can smell his cologne and she can feel her body reaction violently at the smell of him. Draco let his hand fall on her knee, his fingers brushing the dress up to touch her skin. Earlier in the evening, she decides to wear a nice, muggle dress with the hem ending right on her knees. It’s practical and stylish. People won’t assume she’s trying to sleep with Harry.  
“I find that there’s been quite a few recent discoveries lately,” he whispers huskily. Seductively.  
He glances around the room, eyes passing the dancing couples and the strangers around them before finally landing on Hermione once more.  
His large hand is inching up on her leg, his fingers spreading around her thigh as he leans much too close to be appropriate.  
They talk about work and their holiday plans as the crowd around them thins with people dancing and making rounds around the room.  
“You look lovely, Granger,” he compliments suddenly in the middle of a debate of a new passing legislation as his hand trails higher up her dress. She glances behind her only to find two empty chairs that have been previously occupied by Harry and Pansy.  
Shaking her head, she lets her legs spread out a little as Draco’s hand crawls up her dress underneath the table. She can feel her skin prickling with anticipation as her heart rate increases from his finger’s exploration under her skirt.  
“It’s the dress,” Hermione replies cheekily, a rush of excitement flowing through her as people pass by their table.  
Our secret moments, she thinks, her brown eyes meeting his stormy grays as they share a knowing smile. “It’s doing all the work.”  
A man pats Draco in the back, Hermione’s eyes widening in fear that they were found out only for the older man to nod at Draco, ignoring Hermione as the man wishes him a good holiday.  
Draco tries to introduce Hermione but the man rudely excuses himself and leaves them. She is about to comment but then, Draco’s hand squeezes her thigh and she is lost again in his mesmerizing eyes.  
“I think it’s the person,” Draco counters once his attention was back to Hermione, referring to their previously interrupted conversation. “A dress can only do so much.”  
“That would mean you’d think I’m lovely all the time,” she teases, a little bit out of breath. If anyone notices, no one comments.  
“I do,” he whispers and her heart skips a beat.  
“Your judgement is clouded.” She gasps softly when his fingers ghosts over the hem of her underwear. When Draco feels the pattern of the lace and ribbons, she sees his eyes dilating as he narrows them at her. “I doubt you’d think I’m lovely without it.”  
“Shall we test that theory?” At this point Draco’s fingers are tracing the pattern of the lace, navigating leisurely to get under, his grey eyes darkening and she can’t— she can’t breathe. “For muggle science.”  
Loss of words (and breath), Hermione nods in agreement. At this point, he can ask her to drop her dress now and she will probably do it without hesitation.  
“For science,” she repeats, her cheeks heating up at the idea of someone finding Draco’s hand up her dress and wet of her. “Though,” she reconsiders cheekily and casually, “Might not be such a good idea,” she is looking around and she continues, “In this crowded room.” She almost laugh at the thought of Draco Malfoy fucking Hermione Granger in secret in a room of stuffy purebloods who don’t even attempt to be civil with her.  
Draco pulls his hand back but not before pinching her on her inner thigh.  
“I’ll be waiting at front,” he tells her sternly before he makes his way to Blaise and wishes the couple good night.  
Hermione waits fifteen minutes, dancing once with Ron and once with Blaise before she bids her goodbyes. She doesn’t see Harry or Pansy.  
She texts Harry instead that she’ll be going home soon and he’s quick to reply that he’ll be taking Pansy home tonight so please, Hermione, don't check up on me tomorrow. I’ll text you.  
Not paying attention to her surroundings, Hermione is suddenly pulled back into one of the closed doors as she exits the ballroom, a hand on her waist and another covering her mouth, preventing her from screaming or crying for help.  
She gasps when her back hits the wall, the hand on her mouth moving down around her throat, grip firm.  
Hermione spreads her legs wide as strong, determined fingers pushes her dress out of the way and sinks deep inside her.  
She was already wet and she’s only a little bit embarrassed about it.  
“Granger,” Draco whispers her name against her ear and she feels him press growing erection on her waist as he leans in to tell her in detail all the filthy things he will do to her to show her how lovely she looks without the dress on.  
Draco Malfoy fucks her beautifully in this large study in Blaise’s home.  
As Draco whispers to her, “Granger, you’re fucking mine,” she forgets at that moment where they were. 

“I’m shocked,” Hermione whispers as she traces the lines of Draco’s muscles with her finger. Her favourite thing about his body is his pecs. She likes to touch him there and play with the hairs and feel the muscles underneath. “I’m shocked but also, it makes sense.”  
“Well, I, for one, am confused,” Draco voices, giving her ass a quick slap and she is embarrassed that she gets wet from that.  
“Pansy and Harry,” she explains, glaring at him. It’s easier to deal with his ego if he thinks she’s unaffected by him. “I should have seen it coming.”  
“They make a good couple,” he comments dismissively as he takes her hand and places it on his growing erection. Hermione closes her fingers over the shaft and follows the rhythm he guides her.  
Throwing his head back with a groan, Draco squeezes a handful of her ass.  
“She makes him happy,” she says. “I haven’t seen Harry so smitten and happy I’m so long. In fact—“  
“Granger,” he interrupts, pumping her hand faster on his erection, “Kindly don’t mention Potter while working on my cock.” His fingers find her mass of hair, tangles themselves in her locks, and pulls. She feels herself getting wetter. “In fact,” he continues with a wicked smile as he pushes her head downwards, still holding onto her hair, “Let’s put that lovely mouth of yours into good use and see how far down it can take my cock.”  
She glares at him but let him guide her head down to face his crotch. Opening her mouth, she runs her tongue over a thick, long vein before taking him in inside her mouth. Draco mutters her name like a prayer. He sets the pace and Hermione complies to the push of his hands and the thrust of his hips, relaxing her throat as he encourages her to take as much of him as she could.  
“You take my cock so fucking well, Granger,” he says as he pushes her head down further, along with other encouragements. Hermione has always been a fan of literature. She doesn’t know how much she enjoys Draco’s dirty vocabulary until she’s dripping with need just from sucking him off and him calling her his filthy little slut.  
Hermione is pleasantly surprised at how vocal Draco is in the bedroom. His words have a way of turning her on and he never fails to use them against her.  
“Tonight,” he whispers as he watches her suck him off, “They had no idea—no idea that you would take me home and let me fuck this swotty little mouth of yours.”  
She doubles her efforts and he quickens his pace of thrusting into her mouth. “I bet it turned you on that I fucked you in that little closet,” he says, voice husky, “That you were prettily begging for my cock just a few feet from people who had no idea about me and you.”  
Then he’ll pull her by the hair, turn her around and push her face down on the bed. Before she can even catch her breath, he’s fucking from behind and into the mattress. His movements are so precise, so powerful—it makes her weak in the knees.  
“You’re mine aren’t you, Granger?”  
It’s the first time he’s ever acknowledged their relationship. His fingers caress her skin so sweetly that it makes her weak in the heart.  
It’s not a question because it’s just facts now but she answers him anyway. “Yours,” she echoes, loving the sound of it, and he fucks her deeper and harder, as if to make his mark on her. She takes him because she she can’t help it—he feels so good inside her and he takes such great care of her during and after they fuck.  
“That’s right, Granger.” Draco pulls her up by the hair, a hand on her hip as he drives into her at a spectacular angel, teeth scraping the skin on her neck, and she knows that come morning, he’ll leave his marks on her—bruises like golden and purple tattoos. “You’re mine.”

They meet Pansy and Harry for brunch at Hermione’s favourite breakfast place. It’s a change in their routine. It’s weird for Hermione, but also she enjoys being able to hold Draco’s hand in public (even though it’s in the muggle world) and she adores Draco when he pulls open doors for her and kisses her on the forehead. She also likes the fact that she can openly talk about their relationship as if she isn’t some kind of dirty secret and she doesn’t know if it makes her so happy or so sad. But then, Draco Malfoy will smile at her a certain way and he’ll tell her that she’s so beautiful and she’ll forget about all her worries.  
“If you hurt Draco,” Pansy threatens Hermione, pointing her fork at her way, “I know three hundred ways to murder and hide a body.”  
It’s surreal to see the two biggest muggle born haters in their year dining at a cheap, muggle franchise. Harry just smiles goofily at Pansy and Hermione can’t help but smile as well.  
“Pansy.” Draco glares at his best friend in earning but Hermione can detect a layer of amusement under his warning tone.  
Hermione laughs softly, placing a hand on Draco’s leg before saying, “Of course that threat goes both ways.” She glances at Draco, who is blushing in embarrassment.  
Pansy simply watches her as if calculating her next move. It seems that Hermione passes whatever test she’s conjured because a moment later, the former slytherin nods at her.  
“Don’t be ridiculous, Granger,” Pansy states, cutting into her toast. “I’m marrying Potter, there’s no need for silly threats.”  
Harry chokes on his pancake at her words.  
Draco laughs and Hermione smiles that her best friend doesn’t argue against it. With Draco’s reaction, she figures that this declaration isn’t unpredictable for Pansy. Then again, Pansy has always been very forward with her truths even when they were younger. It just so happens that now, her truths are being really into Harry Potter.  
“Is that a hint?” Harry asks cluelessly, fumbling with his utensils nervously. Hermione finds it endearing.  
“Merlin,” Pansy says, pretending to look exhausted as she glances at Harry. She looks at him as if asking herself why she’s even here in the first place, but Hermione figures it’s just an act. “You’re lucky you’re good looking.” She gives him a kiss on the cheek and smiles fondly at the dark haired boy.  
“Ummm— thanks?”  
Hermione brings up Pansy’s certainty of wanting to marry Harry. Even though she’s on board with their relationship, she can’t help but wonder, “How are you so sure?”  
“Granger, I’m not one to waste my time with men I don’t like,” the dark haired girl answers simply as if Hermione has asked her what’s two plus two. “Flings are not my cup of tea. I enjoy Potter’s company and I adore his face when he smiles.”  
It isn’t the answer she’s expecting—truthfully she doesn’t know what to expect but Hermione nods in understanding. She feels the same way about Draco, though their standing isn’t as solid as Pansy’s and Harry’s. Harry wears his heart on his sleeve and it’s hard to resist loving someone like that.  
“I’m not saying this so that Harry will propose.” Pansy sighs, running a hand through her hair. She glances at Harry with a warm smile but it wavers a little. “All of this silence about the relationship,” she continues to explain. “I’ve been patient and I’ve been pining in anticipation to see your face daily, Potter, and I’m desperately waiting to show you off and this isn’t—it’s not just a fling for me.” She faces him and her eyes meet Harry’s head on. Hermione can feel in her heart the emotions in Pansy’s voice. She noticed that the girl’s hands were shaking on the table, only calming when Harry gently engulfs her hands with his. “I’m not going anywhere, Potter, and we’ll take it at whatever pace you want.”  
Draco isn’t silent but he also doesn’t voice his opinion. He looks like he’s thinking deeply. Hermione asks him with worry if he’s okay and he looks at her like he’s seeing her for the first time. He cups her face and kisses her on the corner of her lips. It was soft and quick and so very chaste but it makes her heart skip a beat.  
“Ugh,” Pansy grumbles, making a face at their display of affection. Hermione blushes in embarrassment. She’s not one for PDA—much less when her friends are right in front of her. “Drake, can you be anymore chaste? You kiss her like she’s a friend.”  
Again, Pansy catches Hermione by surprise. She assumes that the witch is going to complain about the kiss and not that it isn’t heated enough.  
Draco glances at Pansy with a raised brow. “I don’t ever recall kissing you or even Blaise like that.”  
His statement makes Hermione wonder if their relationship from Hogwarts is just an act. Wasn’t Pansy his girlfriend for a year at least?  
Pansy narrows her eyes at him. “What do you mean ‘or even Blaise?’” She looks at him, offended. “I am your best friend—that moron doesn’t even hold a candle beside me.”  
Draco stares at her head on, unflinching. “With how you’ve been disappearing on me lately, Granger’s more my best friend than you,” Draco shrugs, tone icy.  
Pansy gasps, standing up. Hermione giggles, knowing it’s all for show. She never realized that slytherins are so overly dramatic. It’s a different noise from what she’s used to with her gryffindor friends and she finds herself enjoying it.  
“Granger, how dare you. This is a call for a duel. For my honour as a witch—”  
“We can’t duel in a muggle restaurant, love,” Harry interrupts her, pulling her down to her chair, stifling a laugh. Pansy grins at him, kisses him soundly on the mouth and smirks at Harry, who’s blushing like crazy.  
Hermione finds it all endearing.  
They finish their brunch in a slow pace, discussing the details of both relationships from when it started (“Honestly, Pansy picked me up from the bar and took me home,” Harry confesses just as Malfoy says, “I’ve always wanted to fuck Granger so I decided that there’s no time like the present.”) to morning routines (“You must exfoliate, Granger,” advises Draco), to pet peeves (“I hate it when people use more or less as a description,” grumbles Hermione, “It’s either more or less—but not both.”).  
They say their goodbyes and get on their separate ways but not before promising to do this again.  
Hermione wants to ride Draco once more before they, too, have to say goodbye. He apperates them both to his large flat, giving her a tour before promptly, lifting her skirt up and fucking her with his fingers.  
“Is this how you always do your house tour?” Hermione asks, panting and exhausted. They’re on his bed—soft pillows and silk sheets engulfing her and she swears she’s ok a cloud—she can fall asleep like this.  
“Only to pretty ones,” he replies, nibbling on the shell of her ears.  
She laughs, nuzzling closer to him, enjoying the feel of his skin against her own. “You think you’re so funny.”  
He pinches her on the thigh. “It’s funny you think I’m joking.”  
Hermione pushes him off of her only to pull herself up and straddle him on the hips. She grinds against his growing erection and moans at how delicious the friction between the two of them is.  
“I can see through your walls, Draco Malfoy,” she tells him with a small smile. “You’re not as bad as you think you are.”  
His face is suddenly blank, his mask on as he makes himself comfortable under her moving body, hands behind his back, arms and muscles flexed in a way that it makes her so freaking wet. Her eyes devour the sight of him because when this ends, this picture of Malfoy looking so scrumptious will be able to fuel her lonely nights.  
He raises a brow at her, as if daring her to do something reckless.  
“You and Harry are too similar,” she mutters, hands exploring the expanse of his skin. She bites back a smirk, knowing that mentioning Harry Potter is the key to crumbling Draco’s walls.  
Draco’s eyes narrows on her, annoyance painting over his features. “Take that back.”  
She shakes her head, biting back a laugh that threatens to surface. “No, it’s true—listen,” she tells him, egging him on as she pushes him down when he tries to get up. It took almost all her strength to do so but she isn’t going to tell him that lest he takes advantage of the physical advantage. She needs to at least pretend that he can’t just push her around.  
“You’re both so stubborn,” she starts, listing their very similar traits. Draco is pouting and it's so adorable that she almost doesn’t continue. “When there’s something wrong, you brood and sulk and don’t talk about it.”  
She thinks that he’s caught on because he was smiling at her in ways that got her heart fluttering and her body heated. “I would like it if you don’t mention Potter when I’m about to fuck you into this matress, Granger.”  
“Can I mention him when you’re about to fuck me on your balcony?” she teases.  
“Don’t test me,” he whispered in a low voice, chuckling as he grabs onto her hips grinds his pelvis on hers, “I know all your favourite books and a nifty spell that can vanish them all.”  
Hermione pauses suddenly, eyeing him doubtfully. “Which ones.”  
He blinks at her for a moment, the corner of his lips lifting. “Not the exact titles but—all the ones on your nightstand,” he answers, “The ones tucked in your desk drawer at the Ministry, and of course, that navy book on your bay window.”  
She frowns at him because he was right. Those are the places she likes to leave her read books.  
“Draco,” she asks him, “How do you know that?”  
He smirks. “Didn’t I tell you you’re my best friend, Granger?”  
She eyes him, thinking about it. It might have first started off with the two of them just sleeping together but with such intimacy came something else. She doesn’t realize until now that she tells him secrets and intimate details of her feelings and he lets her in the walls he had built up. They are amicable but it’s more than that. Draco Malfoy was not amicable to anyone. He was polite but cold. He was friendly with her like how he’s friendly with Pansy and Blaise and his other friends. She looks at him, remembering Pansy’s words.  
I enjoy his company and I like his face when he smiles.  
“I don’t want you like a best friend,” she tells him.  
He smirks, eyeing her naked body.  
“What a coincidence,” Draco was quick to grab her arms and within a blink of an eye, he has her pinned down on the bed, his body hovering over hers. Draco kisses the side of her neck, in which Hermione was eager to let him do so. “I was thinking the same thing.” 

Work keeps them busy after. Hermione gets Draco a phone and teaches him how to use text and it makes not seeing him daily more bearable.  
It’s late on a Tuesday evening when Draco asks if she’s home and she replies that she’s still at work that he comes to her office with a bag full of her favourite take out.  
“You ventured to the muggle world on your own?”  
He blushes. “I went with Potter.”  
And then, Hermione is climbing him faster than she even thinks possible. In her hurried clumsiness, Draco drops the utensils and Hermione has his cock out of his pants, hikes up her skirt, pushes her panties aside, and sinks deep on his hardened length.  
“Merlin, Granger,” he moans as his fingers digs into her hips. “Oh, fuck me.”  
“That’s the idea,” she mutters sassily, enjoying the ridges and thickness of him inside her. It doesn’t take her long to come undone, bringing Draco with her. She’s panting and she’s sleepy and she’s definitely hungry by the time she collapses on Draco’s chest.  
“I guess the way to your heart is through food?” he jokes as he sits on her chair with Hermione on his lap, feeding him greasy fries. His fingers are playing with her hair and massaging her scalp. The most she can do to thank him is to feed him fries at least.  
“I’m hungry. Shut up.” She rolls her eyes as she gives him a little snack on the arm. He chuckles and kisses her cheek. She smiles at him gratefully before kissing him softly on the cheek. “I didn’t realize the time. I was just so focused on work and am so excited about the legislations for the—“  
“Granger, shut up,” he interrupts, echoing her words and pulling her chin down to kiss her soundly. Food left forgotten, her work sprawls messily on the desk— just the sound of her name on his lips and everything just stops and all that matters at that moment is that this beautiful man has taken his time to find her best friend and drag him to a place he’s uncomfortable in only to bring her her favourite food because she’s working late.  
She realizes that him leaving her will hurt like hell. 

Draco Malfoy invites her to dinner and she goes to buy a pretty little dress for the occasion. It’s black and it hugs her top, the skirt flaring to her knees. It’s pretty and sensible but a slit in the chest shows off her cleavage and she hopes that Draco appreciates it.  
“What are you wearing, Granger?” His eyes can’t leave her body and she notices that he’s wearing fancy clothes.  
“You don’t like it?” she asks, feigning innocence.  
His eyes narrows at her.  
“I think the question isn’t whether or not I like it,” he drawls, eyes staring intensely at the crease of her cleavage displayed on the slit of the dress.  
“Oh?” she asks, taking a step forward to wrap her arms around his neck. She’s up on the tip of her toes. She likes the fact that he’s very tall. “I’ll tell you a secret,” she whispers, pulling at the lapels of his cloak so that he was leaning down low enough for them to be at equal eye level.  
Draco let’s her tug at him, distracted by the way the dress hugs her chests.  
“I’m good at keeping secrets,” he answers a moment later, bringing his eyes up to meet hers. He looks so serious and it’s so adorable.  
She grins, licks her lips, and tells him, “I—it’s actually embarrassing, really.”  
“I promise I won’t mock you too terribly,” he says, fingers now curling tightly around her hips. His thumb is tracing circular patterns on her waist and it makes it hard to concentrate on seducing him.  
“Well,” she continues, clearing her throat, “I only bought this dress s”—she took in a breath—Draco’s lips are on her skin and, Merlin, it’s glorious—“so you can”— a gasp—this man’s mouth was just so sinful—“take it off,” she finishes, reaching out and fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Draco is suddenly on his knees, pushing the skirts of her dress aside as his mouth latches on her inner thigh. “Take it off.”  
“Granger,” he whispers like a prayer, and then all she can do is gasps because Draco Malfoy is—ah— sinful.  
His tongue. Ah.  
His teeth—ah.  
Oh Merlin, she thought, hoping—wishing—begging—that this never stops. That this never ends. That Draco Malfoy and his talented tongue can be hers.  
Hermione finds herself tangled with Draco Malfoy in her bed as she peppers his neck with soft kisses in their afterglow.  
“You ripped my dress,” she whines childishly.  
He shrugs beneath her and lightly squeezes her ass.  
“You’re a witch aren’t you?” he asks, chuckling, “There’s a handy spell for fixing clothing.”  
She gets up from her position and glares at him. “You literally ripped it into shreds.”  
He rolls his eyes. “You knew what that was going to do to me,” he accuses her, “You’re not the victim here.”  
“Excuse me?” she demands, placing her hands on her hips and bunching up all the hatred she can for one ferocious glare. “You actually ripped it in pieces!” Maybe ‘pieces’ is a bit extreme. It’s actually just ripped in two parts but still. He’s a beast.  
Draco pushes her off of him and rolls his eyes. “Get out of my bed and get dressed,” he tells her, “You’re going to make us late.”  
“Your bed?” she repeats.  
Her question stops him for a second, eyes widening before he schools his features and smirks. “Is that a problem?”  
Blushing, Hermione glares even harder at him. There’s no way she’s going to be all flushed and bothered by his words. It doesn’t matter that he’s been here so often that half of her closet is his clothes. Or that the bed smells like his cologne or that there are two toothbrushes in her bathroom.  
The point is: this is Draco’s fault—whatever it is they’re arguing about anyway.  
“It is.”  
Draco pulls out his wand and points it at the wooden frame of her bed before he mutters a spell.  
Jaw dropping, she reads his name on the bed posts. In elegant letters encrypts Draco Malfoy. She can’t believe it. He’s childish enough to carve his name in her bedpost.  
He’s insane.  
He smiles brightly at her.  
He’s so infuriating and beautiful and stubborn and annoying and—and she can’t help but still like him. She doesn’t know she’ll cope without him. Without his stupid jokes and stupid smiles and stupid arrogance and— she’s stuck with him. He’s made a place in her heart and she can’t ever give him up. It’s maddening and overwhelming and it makes her feel happy and anxious.  
“You’re impossible.”  
He winks at her and gets off the bed, pulling out a modest, conservative dress from her closet. He helps her clean up from their earlier activity and put the dress on, all while kissing her softly and telling her she’s pretty.  
She’s done for it.  
He’s it for her.  
She can’t live a life without this. It’s impossible—it’s what she wants and she can’t have anyone else. It’s Draco Malfoy or no one else. He’s—he’s— inescapable, she realizes, watching him pet her cat as she touches up her makeup, I’m not even gonna try to deny it.  
She can’t deny herself any longer. 

Draco takes her to dinner to meet his parents, Hermione realizes when they are led to a table for four.  
She’s beyond mortified because if she met them at the restaurant in the first dress—Merlin, she might as well just die then. She tells him this and he laughs and she knows that he would have let her go looking like that at her expense. Maybe she should rethink her revelation of Draco Malfoy being the one for her.  
“Mother, Father.” Draco greets his parents formally and introduces her to them as his girlfriend. It takes her by surprise and she’s blushing and fumbling with nervousness and excitement. They don’t ever talk about the status of their relationship and she doesn’t realize how happy she is that Draco calls her his girlfriend until she is accepting Narcissa’s invitation to go garden shopping with her next weekend.  
Lucius is polite and expresses his joy on Draco finding someone strong and independent and smart like Hermione and she’s taken aback by the elder Malfoy’s praise.  
When they say their goodbye, Narcissa pulls Hermione into a hug.  
“Take care of him,” she whispers to her ear, “My Dragon has a delicate heart.”  
Lucius shakes her hand and invites them for dinner again next week. She’s high in something. She’s high on Draco Malfoy.  
She’s so happy that his parents like her and she forgets that they’re outside in public, standing together in front of a busy restaurant.  
This is their first outing in the Wizarding World and they forget at that moment, surrounded by the noisy streets and cold spring breeze that she’s Hermione Granger and he’s Draco Malfoy and they attract the media like a moth to a flame. Still, they forget and it’s okay because the moment Draco takes her hand in his, it’s like—it’s as if the world stops and he’s just a boy and she’s just a girl who and it’s just them and no one else.  
“Thank you,” he tells her sincerely, soft, grey eyes on brown, “We’ve gone about it backwards but, Granger, I care deeply about you.” She feels her heart beating fast in her chest and she swears all the air has left her lungs because she can’t breathe. She wants to say something—to assure him that she feels the same way but her throat is dry and she can’t find her voice.  
He doesn’t seem to notice though because moments later, he lifts her hands to his lips and smiles at her like she’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen and Hermione is taken away because no one has ever looked at her like that. “I understand if you don’t want to continue seeing me, but I want you to know my intentions.”  
He kisses her knuckles then and—okay, she isn’t really one for cheesy gestures but, Merlin, this man is tugging her heart at the right places and, oh, my Lord—she's a goner. Draco Malfoy has her heart and she can never get it back. “I’m going to marry you one day, Granger,” he promises, kissing the back of her hand once more. “I’m not letting you go.”  
She’s wrapping her arms around him and she’s kissing him so passionately, so fiercely, pouring her emotions into this one kiss that she doesn’t recognize the flashes of cameras and she doesn’t even hear their names being called because he’s kissing her back with just as much enthusiasm and oh, Merlin, she’s so happy.  
He apperates them into his flat without letting go of the kiss. He had her against the wall, devouring her wholly. She’s burning in her skin, itching to feel him all over her. He sets her—physically and emotionally—on fire with the way he’s holding her and making her feel. Draco Malfoy is consuming her and she—she enjoys it; she needs it. He sets her on fire and if—if I get burned, she thinks, incoherent with lust as his fingers trail up her thigh, At least we did this. Felt the excitement and accepted and embraced the feelings—at least they’re here—at least they’re together and one and at least they’re— at least they’re electrified. 

The backlash is unavoidable but manageable. The Malfoys has a large sway to what is published in most of the papers. with Harry Potter standing by her side—by Draco’s side— the public is easy to win over. with Lord and Lady Malfoy in full support of the relationship, it’s suicide to against them and Harry Potter.  
They put a spin on the tale— Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger: star crossed lovers, overcoming their history and upbringing and falling in love and the public eats it up.  
They confront her family (the Weasleys) soon after the first news flash and even though the relationship between her and her adoptive family is still a little bit shaky, they accept Draco with open arms. Or as open as some of them (Ronald) can be.  
“I can’t believe you’d willingly date the ferret,” he complains. His mom threatens him and Ginny hexes him and he’s forced to apologize to a smirking Draco.  
Ginny and Blaise insists (Blaise pleads, actually) that she and Draco start coming to the weekly Sunday lunch at the Burrow. Hermione says she’ll think about it but made no promises. When she finds out that Harry and Pansy are now weekly guests, she starts bringing Draco with her too. Draco complains but she knows him well enough to know that he secretly enjoys the gathering.  
Hermione isn’t accosted at work about the relationship, which she’s very thankful for, but it doesn’t stop the staring and the whispering. She doesn’t mind, though, especially if it means ending up in Draco’s arms later that night.  
They start reading articles and stories (mostly false stories) written about them. Hermione thought they’re ridiculous. Draco thought they’re hilarious.  
She finds herself moving her things into his flat soon enough. It starts off with some of her clothes and slowly, her books and Crook’s things. His flat is bigger and he has a nicer bed and bigger tub, she rationalizes. She likes to sleep in his sheets and she likes to be surrounded by the smell of him and so does her cat. Draco complains about Crooks but then she’ll find him reading one of her books and lazily petting the little furball.  
She especially likes the way they both fit in his tub and, mostly, she likes soaking in there with a book for hours, tasting his wine collection.  
Draco doesn’t argue. He says he likes it when she’s naked in his home even if it means popping all his favourite bottles for subpar reasons.  
She’s soaking in the tub one night, tired from work. Draco fills the tub with bubbles and flower petals and lights up her favourite scented candles.  
“Read to me?” she asks him.  
Draco smiles warmly, pulls a chair into the bathroom, and proceeds to read to her. Hermione relaxes in the tub and is soothed by the baritone of his voice. He’s playing with her hair and she’s taking sips of their shared glass of wine as he reads and she can’t help but wish that this to be her forever.  
She fantasizes how her life will be with Draco until she realizes that he is making up lines of the story and she splashes him with water.  
He saves the book from the water and she falls for him a little bit more.  
“Now, you’ve done it,” he threatens and puts the book away and muttering a charm—probably to protect it from water damage.  
She squeals when he unexpectedly joins her in the tub, clothes and all and she’s trying to put the glass of expensive wine away when he grabs her by the thigh and pulls her close. The red liquid is bright against the porcelain.  
“I’m spilling wine in the bathtub!” She whines, mourning for the wasted drink.  
They both laugh and he kisses her but misses her lips because she’s squirming away from him. He’s kissing her cheek, her nose, her forehead— she laughs, realizing that he’s kissing her face all over, the stubble around his face, tickling her. “You’re drunk, Draco—and I’m drunk,” she whines and he ignores her as his lips continue its exploration around her face. He lifts her off the tub, water splashing and dripping as he carries her in his arms, throwing her on the bed. “And we’re both drunk—and wet.”  
He mutters a spell that dries them off.  
They spend the rest of the night in bed and Hermione falls asleep happy in his arms. 

Hermione and Pansy become close friends. It doesn’t surprise Hermione much. Harry Potter is her best friend and if he likes Pansy, then it shouldn’t be hard for her to like the girl too. Their weekly brunches with Harry and Draco turns into just the two of them. They usually leave their respective partners at home to sleep in while they meet up and catch up.  
“I don’t get it,” Pansy mumbles as she stab into her tarte, “You and Draco get caught in a compromising moment and everyone falls for your dumb story. The moment Potter and I formally and properly announce that we’re together, it’s like, all hell breaks loose.”  
“Is that a muggle reference?”  
The dark haired witch glares at Hermione. “Focus, Granger.”  
Hermione shrugs in return. “It wasn’t all flattering articles at the beginning, you know,” Hermione says, “A few of our dating history popped up too and those are always unpleasant to see. And not to mention false.”  
“Don’t remind me. Me and Draco? Gross.” Pansy rolls her eyes. “And it’s not like you and Krum actually dated—”  
“We’re actually close friends,” Hermione interrupts. “Viktor and I—it drove Ron bonkers.”  
“Ronald Weasley is a man child. I’m surprised you actually dated him.” Pansy raised a brow in interest. “You should get Drake an autograph. He’s still a big fan. Of Krum. Not of the Weasle King.”  
Hermione eyes her skeptically, knowing that Pansy’s main reason of being a quiditch fan isn’t because of the game itself but of the players. “You mean you’re a big fan.”  
Pansy chuckles, taking a sip of her coffee. “What can I say? I have a thing for Quidditch players—I mean look at Potter. You’ve seen those ands right?”  
Hermione crinkles her nose, feeling sick at the thought of Harry being an attractive male of the opposite sex. Aesthetically speaking, Harry is nice to look at but looking at him at any other way just makes her feel nauseas.  
“Gross, please don’t say that about Harry.” But she doesn’t argue. She isn’t into the sport at all but if you do look at the men she’s dated in the past and as of currently, there’s an undeniable pattern.  
Rolling her eyes, Pansy steers then back on topic. “I just hate those articles so much,” she confesses. “I know I should ignore them but they get under my skin.”  
Hermione nods her in understanding. It’s an effort to not read about her and Draco but she’s gotten used to it since she’s always been in the spotlight ever since the war. It’s probably easier for her because ignoring the papers has always been her first instinct and she doesn’t doubt that this is the first time Pansy has been thrown into the spotlight like this.  
“Everyone thinks that they know us,” she tells Pansy, recalling the first few weeks of the Granger-Malfoy story leaking out. She remembers seeing the polls of when they will break up or when they’ll get married or what they’ll name their children and—Merlin, those scared her. “But they don’t—they know literally nothing about us—about—well, anything.” The Wizarding World has fallen for the fake story they release. They don’t know anything about all of the silence and pretense before they’re outed. Nothing about the pining for each other when they’re figuring out their feelings. Absolutely nothing about the anticipation of seeing each other and her desperately waiting to see his face and how her hands would shake from holding back from being with Draco and—  
“I know it’s hard, Pans,” she says, “But think of Harry and you’ll see that he’s worth it. Those articles will be all over something else a few weeks from now. It’ll die down.”  
“Thanks, Granger.” 

Draco looks at her in awe.  
Viktor Krum has sent an owl to Draco inviting him and his family and friends to a private box for his next game.  
“I mean I have a box but Granger, this is Krum’s box. It’s all sorts of exclusive.”  
Hermione smiles, enjoying the childlike joy in Draco’s face. He’s very easy to please, which surprises Hermione as he’s been a very spoiled child when they were growing up. She assumes back then (and even when they first start dating) that Draco is hard to please but really, the smallest things can make him smile.  
“Let me know how the game is.”  
Blinking, he frowns at her like she’s just broken his favourite toy. Though, even if he’s easy to please, he’s also very easy to displease. “You’re going.”  
Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head. Draco, Harry, or Ron aren't playing. There’s no need for her to actually be there. “No.”  
Draco joins her on the couch and plucks the book out of her hand. He places a bookmark on the page before closing it and facing her with a pout. He’s adorable but she doesn’t tell him that.  
“You have to introduce us.”  
“Draco—”  
“Please, Hermione?” He’s whining and complaining and bribing her until she finally agrees and Hermione almost laughs. She remembers him in their first year where he’s a bit whiny and spoiled. She flashbacks about the time they met again months after his trial and she remembers him still being whiny and spoiled.  
“Remember when you met me?”  
“Yes, who can forget such hair?” he teases, reaching out to play with her hair. “We were eleven so it’s not your fault.”  
“Hey!” she argues, laughing, knowing that Draco is quite fond of her hair. “You’re one time talk. Your hair was bleached.”  
This time, he glares at her, offended. “I think you know for a fact that this colour is all natural.”  
She laughs at him. His vanity is endearing to her. “I like your hair. It’s aesthetically pleasing to look at.”  
“Thank Merlin you find me aesthetically pleasing.”  
“I said your hair,” she refutes, eyeing him over before she shrugs, “You, in general, well.”  
“Makes you hot and bothered, huh?”  
She hits him playfully on the arm and he catches her before the second strike, kissing her soundly.  
“I adore your hair,” Draco mutters, fingers tangled in her tresses. Then, he’s got her under him and his body covered her completely and she’s enjoying the feel of his weight over her. “I adore you.”  
“Draco, I—”  
He interrupts her with a small kiss on the corner of her lips. “Shut up for a second,” he mutters, “Let me finish.” Hermione closes her mouth and let him continue, “You, Hermione Granger, are too good for me. You have a good heart and I don’t deserve you.” He’s looking at her tenderly, kissing her softly, and Hermione can sleep like this. Cradled in his arms and loving words being spoken to her by a man who adores her.  
“I’m not the best person, Granger.” His voice is quiet but Hermione doesn’t say anything, letting him pour out his emotions. “And I’m lucky because even in my worst times, you see the best in me and I know that I—I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you—but I promise you: I’ll do all I can to be worthy of being with you.”  
“Don’t be silly, Draco,” she says finally, smiling. She can tell that he has more to say but she also needs to say her piece. “I’m not perfect and I have flaws and my mistakes—they aren't who I am. And you aren’t yours either.”  
“The things I did are unforgivable,” he says, “The worst you’ve probably ever done is break curfew at Hogwarts.”  
“Well, that’s untrue,” she replies, teasingly, “I once kept Skeeter in a jar and blackmailed her—I’m sure that violates at least one human right law.”  
Draco chuckles, sitting up and pulling her up with him in one, swift movement, setting her to sit on his lap. “Not if they’re an unregistered animagus it doesn’t.”  
Hermione frowns. “And that’s barbaric!” she yells. “There should be—”  
He’s laughing and he’s holding her tight, shaking his head as he buried his nose on the crook of her neck. “You’re golden, Granger,” he says to her, “And I’m bad news.”  
She rolls her eyes at him and pushes him back. Hermione grabs him by the face and stares at him head on. “I knew all along your heart wasn’t into it. You might have been a bully, Draco, but you aren’t a killer.”  
Shame fills his eyes but she doesn’t let him go. Doesn’t let him look away. “I meant those things at the time.”  
“And yet, when it mattered, you saved us. You’ve been saving me since we were children,” Hermione whispers. “The ripped page of the basilisk? Warning us about the attack during the quidditch cup—Draco, I’ve always thought there’s a little bit of good in you. You’re not the product of your environment.”  
He smiles sadly. “Even in my worse lies,” he mutters, “You saw the truth of me.” He kisses her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to him. her heart was beating loud and fast and she’s certain he can feel it through. “It’s been so dark my whole life and sometimes, before you came along, I thought about giving up.”  
She gasps and he shakes his head. “And then, you come into my life and it’s like I—I woke up just in time. I woke up from this awful, endless dream where nothing is okay but I had to pretend that it’s all—” He looks at her and sighs softly. “Now, I wake up by your side and I can’t help but think that this is it, what I’ve been looking for. I’m unsure about many things in my life but I do know for certain that you’re—you’re the one for me Granger. You’re my—my one and only—you’re my lifeline.” His hands are shaking and she takes his hand on hers,smiling at him softly, encouraging him to continue. “I—I can’t explain this, and—” He kisses her and he uses his lips, his hands, his whole body to show her just how much she means to him.  
“Granger,” he moans and everything just—just stops. It’s just Draco and Hermione and it was all they need. 

Hermione watches as Draco shrinks her boxes and neatly stack them until all her things are ready to be moved out of her flat.  
“I’m going to miss this place,” he mumbles. Glancing at the bed, he grins. “Let’s give this old thing a proper goodbye before chucking it out.”  
He throws her onto the bed and she doesn’t bounce like how she does on his bed, which is unfortunate because she likes jumping around the bed with Draco, and she’s not used to it but she doesn’t mind because Draco’s lips is making its way up her thighs and, dear Merlin, she’s in heaven now. Hermione laughs and tries to grab onto the naked mattress but only feels the bumps of where their bodies use the bed most often. She traces Draco’s side, feeling the indentation in a lumpy shape of him.  
“I’m going to miss this bed,” she says, moaning and then she’s not talking anymore because, goodness, how can she even formulate words or a proper thought when Draco’s tongue is so—oh, dear Lord. 

Hermione Granger stands proud beside her best friend, Harry Potter as he stands up by the altar, all nervous and flush with fresh tears. She’s his Maid of Honour and they both cry when Pansy starts walking down the aisle in a beautiful dress.  
Pansy is smirking, like she’s enjoying the fact that Harry’s is an actual mess (or maybe Harry’s reaction gave her another ego boost because Harry Potter bawling in happiness of seeing anyone is not something seen daily).  
“We can leave if you want,” she says jokingly, to Harry before Pansy gets close enough to hear, trying to stop herself from bawling. “I can create a distraction and you can accoi your broom and get out.”  
Harry laughs, tears running down his eyes as he watches Pansy make her way towards him. He shakes his head and Hermione thinks that Pansy’s has rendered him speechless that he can’t even from words. Pansy gets to the front and Hermione tries her best to keep a straight face but it doesn’t work. She’s smiling goofily and crying with joy. Pansy glares at her but it was halfhearted. The bride has warned her prior that she can’t be ugly-crying for the photos else Pansy’s going to bury alive.  
Hermione is prepared to die tonight because she can’t hold the joy in her heart seeing his best friend marry the love of his life  
“You look lovely, Granger,” Draco whispers to her as they dance in the reception. Pansy makes him wear a green tie and she’s wearing an emerald dress and she's smiling because Draco never matches her outfits.  
“It’s the dress,” she says teasingly, gesturing to the long, flowy thing and he smirks. It’s absolutely not her colour but she wears it anyway for them.  
“Did you only buy this dress so I can take it off?”  
She laughs. “Obviously,” she tells him. “And not because it’s Pansy’s wedding.”  
“Speaking of weddings.”  
She glares at his toothy grin. “You’re absolutely not proposing at your best friend’s wedding.”  
He smirks. “I wasn’t.” A pause. “But if you want—”  
Red paints her cheek. “You’re awful, Draco Malfoy.”  
He leans forward to kiss her on the cheek. She enjoys the gesture because she thinks, finally, they don’t have to hide it anymore.  
“I’m going to marry you the fuck out of you, Granger,” he promises, whispering to her ear. “But not today. It’s bad manners, don’t you agree?”  
She glares at him but she can’t help the fast beating of her heart. He’s made his mark on her—her body, her heart, her soul—and she can never rid of him even if she wants to. He’s part of her now and she doesn’t think that she’ll be able to function properly if ever he leaves her. 

Hermione glares at her reflection in the mirror. Her chest and neck is covered in bruises—most aren’t purple anymore but it looks like her skin’s covered in golden tattoos in the shape of Draco Malfoy’s teeth.  
For a while, her closet has been a revolving set of turtlenecks and scarves but it’s going to be a problem once winter is over. She needs to have a talk with Draco about his biting problem.  
She finds him in his study, reading over a large stack of files. She complains to him and he’s nodding but she doesn’t think he’s listening.  
“I like my marks on you,” he tells her stubbornly. He’s scribbling on paper and isn’t paying her any attention which irks her a little more.  
“That’s barbaric,” she argues, plucking the pen from his hand. “Everyone knows we’re together. There’s no need for this beastly show of dominance.”  
He frowns, turning to face her. He eyes the pen before sighing, pushing off his chair and standing to face her. “Fine,” he says with a pout, leaning down to cage her between his arms and his desk. “In one condition.”  
Unbelievable, she thinks.  
“Draco, this isn’t an argu—”  
Hermione gasps and suddenly she’s speechless because Draco has taken her hand and is slipping a large diamond ring on her finger.  
“You’re going to marry me, Granger,” he demands, tone leaving no room for arguments.  
She doesn’t need a minute to inspect the ring to know that it costs him a fortune. The diamond is clear with precise cuts and a beautiful colour and clarity and a lovely shape and—oh, God, she can’t breathe.  
“Aren’t you supposed to ask me?” she finally says, thanking the gods that she isn’t a whimpering mess on the outside because that is exactly what she’s feeling on the inside. “You can’t just demand me to marry you.”  
He looks at her pointedly. “You’re not going to say no so why bother asking?” He shrugs and he’s slipping off her dress and is pushing her on her knees once it’s a pile on the floor of his study. “Instead of being a brat, why don’t we use that smart mouth of yours to thank me instead?”  
She doesn’t argue because the look in his eyes shoots straight to her core and she needs him so badly. 

His mother plans the whole event and Hermione is more relieved than anything when they finish the ceremony and reception and the customary goodbyes and thank you’s.  
They’re back in their flat and fall asleep immediately when their head hits their pillow. They decide not to go on a honeymoon just yet. They catch up on sleep and sex and chores. Draco is not as bad with housework but she suspects that he sometimes gets the Manor’s house elves to do the cleaning when she isn’t looking. She doesn’t mind now that they’re paying them but she doesn’t tell him this knowing that he’ll become lazy and spoiled once more.  
She’s thankful that they only attend Society Parties twice or thrice in a year. Draco hates them just as much as she does but she knows that once he’s the head of his house, they can’t really skivv off these responsibilities.  
But in the meantime—  
“Quiet down, Princess,” Draco hisses as he grinds his hips in a torturous rhythm behind her. He’s stretching her in delicious ways and she can’t help that he makes her feel so good. They finish quickly—something about doing it in public really gets her going. It’s another High Society Ball— an engagement party that one of Draco’s friends has thrown. It was a large event and Hermione doesn’t even realize that the couple has been together. She never sees them together and okay, maybe there’s more couples sneaking around before announcing their relationship. She honestly gets it. It’s bad enough that she’s Hermione Granger but being seen with Draco Malfoy just gets the media going. Theo Nott and her dear friend, Luna, jokes that at least with them, the media isn’t so bad because they aren’t as popular as the Granger-Malfoy scandal.  
“It’s not a scandal,” Hermione protests almost in a whine. Theo and Harry, who somehow manages to find her with Pansy in tow, argues with her that her and Draco is scandalous and when she tries to rebuff it, Pansy joins and she’s a mildly upset that Draco isn’t help her but is only smiling and chucking beside her.  
She threatens to leave him and she simply smiles and says, “Okay, love.”  
Their friend group disperse and they mingle for an hour longer before Hermione pulls Draco to the side to try to convince him to go home.  
“One more hour,” he insists but she know she's bored too and she doesn’t understand why he wants to stay here for so long. “It’s impolite to leave so early.”  
She’s tired now and she misses her bed. “Are you sure?” she asks in a whisper, changing strategy, “I think I can think of better ideas on how to spend the rest of the night together.”  
He quirks an eyebrow with interest. “I’m listening.”  
“Well,” she started, tugging on the strap of her dress, “I only bought this dress so you can—”  
Draco takes her by the hand and apperates them to their apartment. With a smirk he demands, “Take it off.”


End file.
